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Saturday, January 28, 2012

So long Paramount, hello Del Rio

This must qualify as a rite of passage in a woman's life, that day when you realize that you can't rock the same super-intense shade of lipstick you've worn for almost sixteen years. When you realize that that beloved shade that you've worn out and replaced countless times over the years, is no longer doing you any favors -- is making the lines around your lips a little more pronounced, making your teeth look dull. If you're lucky or paying attention, then you can spare yourself the unattractive Havisham, by which really I mean scary old lady mouth -- wrong color, outside the lines and on the teeth. Ay.

I like to think I've done so.

As a reward for completing my 7-day detox cleanse yesterday, sticking with it even when I was craving toast, and also just because I'm awesome, I decided to pay a visit to the Mac outlet at my nearby mall this morning. I'd also just had a mammogram and then an eyebrow waxing, so it really felt like a treat was in order.

First, I feel I should say a few words about Paramount, out of respect. It really, really has been about 16 years. The first time I remember wearing this color was just before my youngest sister Carla's first wedding, which means it was 1996. For whatever reason, maybe because Carla herself or maybe Martine was wearing that color that day and that's the day I fell in love with it, I can't not think of playing croquet in Golden Gate Park on a cold day, my sister's bridal shower. I am not yet wearing the Paramount in the photo below, but Carla (center) clearly DOES have it on. That day, August 17th, 1996, was the start of my long relationship with Paramount.

Paramount, center, on Carla,
Martine and I looking on

This morning, with the help of the sales girl, I tried on several shades, finally settling on Del Rio, which still pops but is a bit less on the red side than my former love. Yes, Paramount, you're coming out of my purse and back into the drawer. I just think I've gotten too old for your particular charms, and that my aged features need something softer, can't really do your intense dark reddish-brownness anymore. You're beautiful, but I've changed. It's not you, it's me. You're still the same shade, it's just that now you hag me so I've got to move on.

So, Del Rio it is. For the foreseeable future, maybe for the next 16 years, until I turn another corner and have to switch it up again, working it at every age, always always looking good.